


Risk

by scribblemoose



Series: Wild [2]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-14
Updated: 2004-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose





	Risk

Yohji had a thumping head, a ringing in his ears, and the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

_Aya?_

The air was cold and musty. Events started to come back to him slowly as he came properly awake: they were in a church, on a mission that had gone wrong. Ken had gone psycho and tried to kill someone he shouldn't have; Aya had barely managed to stop him doing anything stupid, and taken the hit-

_Aya!_

Yohji jerked himself to sitting, ignoring the throb in his temples, and found Aya lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

Fighting panic, Yohji flung himself off the couch, not noticing the pull of his own wounds as he flew to Aya's side. This was all wrong. Omi had run after Ken, and Yohji had brought Aya in here to patch him up...

Damnit. There was so much blood.

Yohji felt with trembling fingers for Aya's pulse.

_Aya, don't do this. Don't-_

There it was. Strong. Or, at least, stronger than he'd expected.

Yohji dared to allow himself a scrap of relief, and sank back on his heels. He leaned back agianst the stone steps that led to the bell tower, and pulled out his phone.

No signal. Just the mocking hiss and crackle of interference.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Lightning strobed the room, followed almost straight away by a crack of thunder that rattled the leaded windows.

Yohji cursed his luck, and set about dressing Aya's wounds.

He was stuck in a church, of all places, in the middle of nowhere, with an unconscious, bleeding Aya, Ken off on some kind of beserk rampage, and a bunch of insane, brainwashed cultists were likely to burst through the door at any minute.

They'd managed to completely fuck up a recon mission, for God's sake.

At least Aya had managed to deflect the worst of Ken's attack with his katana. He had four nasty gashes across his ribs, and had lost a fair bit of blood, but it was nothing that wouldn't heal given time and maybe one or two stitches. Not for the first time, Yohji was thankful for Aya's iron constitution.

"Yohji?" Aya whispered, one hand curling around Yohji's wrist where he cradled Aya's head in his lap.

"Right here, love. You're okay."

Aya opened one eye. "Love? It must be bad."

Yohji laughed, as much from relief as anything. "Nah. Kenken gave you a few scratches, is all."

"Safe?" Aya struggled to sit up; Yohji helped him, wriggled around so he was kneeling behind him.

"For now. Dizzy?"

"A bit." Aya admitted. His hand went to his bandaged ribs; he shivered. "I passed out?"

"We both did. Don't know what happened - last I remember was dragging you in here to fix you up." Yohji draped Aya's coat carefully over his shoulders, helped him put his arms into the sleeves. "I had to cut up your shirt for bandages. Hope it wasn't expensive."

Aya frowned. "That makes no sense."

"I had to use something."

"No, I mean - how did we get knocked out? Why are we still alive?"

That was one thing Yohji had been trying very hard not to think about. That they could have been rendered so vulnerable, so quickly, without even being aware of it. He shuddered. "All the more reason to get out of here as fast as we can," he said. "Can you stand?"

Aya got straight to his feet, of course, not pausing to consider that he might be a little light headed. Fortunately Yohji was there to catch him as he staggered. He ducked his head under Aya's arm, and pulled him in close.

"Lean on me. We've got a long walk. There's a storm, the phone's out."

"How long were we out?" Aya glanced at the window, starting to focus properly on his surroundings, noticing the raging weather for the first time.

"About an hour," said Yohji. "I remember the bells ringing midnight. I didn't think we-"

Aya clamped a hand suddenly over Yohji's mouth, head cocked to one side, listening.

Footsteps echoed on the flagstones outside the door.

"Shit," Yohji hissed into Aya's palm.

"Hide," said Aya, turning towards the bell tower, but Yohji's instincts took him in the other direction, straight for the trap door to the catacombs they'd alread investigated.

"No," said Aya, but he didn't yet have the strength to pull Yohji back the other way. Pausing only to pick up his katana, he followed Yohji through the black hole in the ground, muttering curses under his breath.

Yohji pulled the hatch shut just as the door opened in the room they'd left .

"Kudoh, you idiot!"

"There's a bolt," said Yohji, rattling it into place as he spoke. "They're all locked out. It'll take them a while to get through that, and then that door too," he jerked his thumb towards the door to the catacombs. "See? The tower didn't have a door."

"And we're all locked in! If we'd gone up the tower we'd have been over the roof and free!"

Yohji blinked at him.

Damn. He was right.

"Omi said there could be a way out down here," he said, feebly. "Maybe."

The thin shaft of light coming from a knothole in the trapdoor above them illuninated Aya's scorching glare. Yohji flinched.

"It's a big bolt," he said, defensively. "They'll need to go find something real heavy, and while they're gone maybe we could open it and sneak-"

"Shh!" Aya hissed. "Listen."

Yohji strained to catch the muffled voices from the other side of the trap door.

"They've gone. They should still be here." Flat, emotionless voices. The brainwashed cultists they'd encountered earlier.

"I gave them enough of a blast. We were told not to do permanent damage before Brother John gets here. The controls are imprecise. You delayed us with the-"

"That's not important. They won't have travelled far. One of them's injured. We must find them. Where could they go?"

"The catacombs."

Yohji's heart sank, and he braced himself for the inevitable rattle as the cultists tried the door.

"Hide?" he whispered, hand on his wire.

"Can't kill them," said Aya. "No mission. It's not their fault."

There was a loud, ominous scraping sound from above them, and the shaft of light disappeared.

"They've blocked off the trapdoor," said Aya. "While they go to get reinforcements. We're trapped."

"Shit," said Yohji. "I'm sorry."

"Kudoh, I swear-"

"I'm sorry. I said I'm sorry," said Yohji, opening the door into the catacombs and groping for the light switch. "Let's just assume Omi was right and look for the way out, okay?"

The lights flickered on the room they'd found earlier. It seemed odder than ever to Yohji: empty, unused catacombs converted to a makeshift office. Just as they'd left it: the computer on the rickety old desk; the battered table; the odd domestic touches of coffee machine and cups tidily arranged in stone niches intended to house the dead.

Aya looked paler than ever under the harsh strip lights: Yohji cursed himself again for his mistake.

"Check the computer," said Aya.

"What?"

"I'll search the walls, you look on the computer. See if you can find any sort of map of this place. And while you're at it, a list of members of the cult or the Circle of Light would be useful. Then this whole mess wouldn't be a total waste of time."

Yohji opened his mouth to argue; the whole mission was fucked up beyond hope`, in his opinon. But something in Aya's tone told him he wasn't looking for opinions, so Yohji bit his tongue and got to work.

The computer flickered to life with a loud beep; Yohji lit a cigarette and drummed his fingers on the dusty wooden desk as he waited. Aya was methodically searching the room for any sign of an exit, moving a little more slowly than usual, careful of his wounds, but nonetheless as graceful and beautiful as ever. It was an effort for Yohji to drag his eyes back to the monitor and start clicking on files.

Whoever these guys were, they obviously weren't expecting anyone to hack their computer. There, right in the middle of the screen, was a folder named 'contacts'. It might have been a decoy, of course, but that was for Kritiker to worry about. He pulled a disc from his jacket pocket, and as he saved the files, started to click through the rest of the folders, just in case.

"Now, that's interesting," he said.

"What?" Aya abandoned the filing cabinet he was about to open, and joined Yohji at the computer.

"Well, I found what we were looking for, but there's something else."

Aya leaned down a little to look over Yohji's shoulder, one eartail brushing Yohji's cheek. Yohji's breath hitched; something in that sensation gave him a memory flash of being warm and naked, his legs tangled with Aya's, Aya's soft mouth working on his-

He wrenched his mind back to the present. Cleared his throat.

"You remember that mad musician guy? Wunder X? The CDs of death?"

"Yes." Aya shook his hair out of his eyes, once again caressing Yohji's cheek and sending a thrill straight to his groin.

Yohji tried hard to concentrate. This wasn't the time, or the place.

But then, with him and Aya, that didn't really seemed to make a difference any more.

"Some enterprising soul's found some new use for the technology," he heard himself say. "Damn, we need Omi. I can't make sense of this."

"Neural suppressors," said Aya, his voice a low, seductive rumble, at least to Yohji's ears. Aya put his hand over Yohji's on the mouse, bringing a graph to the screen with a few swift clicks. "See? Sound waves."

Aya's palm was warm over Yohji's knuckles, and Yohji had to fight hard to keep from closing his eyes and simply leaning back into Aya's warmth.

"Soundwaves?" he murmured.

"For brainwashing. And knocking people unconscious, I expect. Do you remember hearing anything before you pased out?"

"Not really," said Yohji, stroking his thumb against Aya's. "Oh, except, the church bells, maybe?"

"That's probably it. Look, they've got lots of patterns for different purposes. Including the initiation. Manx was right. They're using innocent people, brainwashing them to do whatever they want."

Aya was gently rubbing the back of Yohji's neck with one hand; Yohji found his eyes sliding shut.

"You're warm," murmured Aya.

This was insane, Yohji reminded himself. They were on a mission. They were trapped. In danger.

Somehow, that just made the brush of Aya's lips over his all the sweeter.

He twisted around and stood up, mindful of Aya's wounds, helping him to straighten up, curled his arms around Aya's neck and kissed him. Welcomed Aya's tongue into his mouth, and sucked gently on it. Waited for Aya to put a stop to it all and tell him to get back to work.

But he didn't.

Aya did break the kiss, in the end, but he didn't move away. With unmistakable heat and longing in his eyes, he took Yohji's hand and pulled it down to his belly. Then lower. Yohji moaned softly: Aya was rock hard, his cock a thick ridge pressing against the zip of his pants.

One of them should be sensible, Yohji told himself as he massaged Aya's erection through the rough fabric, pushed him back against the filing cabinet. One of them should put a stop to this, before they got themselves into even more trouble.

He sank to his knees, and yanked open Aya's pants.

He heard the hiss of Aya's breath as he touched him, his fingers cool against the heat of Aya's flesh. Yohji had to fight to keep from teasing, wanting to prolong the pleasure even now, despite the risk. He tugged Aya's trousers down to mid thigh, exposing his full, heavy balls and straining, perfect cock.

He looked up at Aya as he took his balls, one at a time, into his mouth; sucked briefly on each before licking up one side of Aya's cock and sliding moist lips over the head. He swirled his tongue around, still watching Aya, his scarlet hair tossed back, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, fingers flexing in Yohji's hair. His cock was hot and thick in Yohji's mouth, and Yohji eagerly opened his throat and took it all in.

He waited for a moment, hands smoothing across the perfect curves of Aya's ass, until Aya started to rock his hips, slowly fucking Yohji's mouth. Breathing hard through his nose, Yohji snaked a finger along the crack of Aya's butt, and started to tease his hole, moving his fingertip in slow, maddeningly soft circles.

Aya moaned, and plunged his cock deeper than ever down Yohji's throat.

Yohji thought he heard something upstairs. But he couldn't stop, any more than Aya could. If anything it just made him want this more, the risk making his blood pump faster, completely lost in what they were doing.

"Quick," gasped Aya. "Yohji-"

Yohji moved his mouth rapidly over Aya's erection, sucking the head, one fist jerking the root of Aya's cock, his finger wriggling inside of him. Aya responded at once, fingers wound tight in Yohji's hair, hips flexing, asshole clenching. Panting now, biting his lower lip hard enough to bruise, eyes squeezed shut.

He cried out and thrust hard into Yohji's mouth, spurting once on his tongue, then pulled back to stripe his face with shot after shot of hot, sticky come.

Aya collapsed to his knees, pressing his hand against the aching bulge in Yohji's pants, and Yohji cried out in suprise, the sudden contact bringing his own release out of nowhere. He spurted helplessly in his pants, as Aya's semen dripped slowly down his face.

He looked up at Aya and stared at him in disbelief: at what they'd done, the risk they'd taken, how fucking good it felt. Then Aya was holding him, licking the come from his chin and cheeks and nose, while Yohji tried to remember how to breathe.

"We have to find a way out," Aya said, and kissed him, briefly. "Come on."

Yohji blinked at him.

"Come on," Aya repeated.

Yohji pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, winced at the unpleasant squelch in his pants, the price for his loss of control. He reached out a hand to help Aya up, his mind slowly clearing from the haze of lust.

Aya got up quickly. Too quickly: he was still weak from loss of blood and the sex, and he crashed back hard onto the filing cabinet. Yohji caught him, pulling him close as the cabinet toppled over with a hollow, metalic clang.

It must have been empty, he mused.

"Tunnel," said Aya.

Yohji followed his gaze: sure enough, just where the filing cabinet had been there was a tunnel; not even a dark, forbidding tunnel, but a well lit passageway, with a tiled floor.

"Tunnel," he said, already crossing to the desk. "We're out of here."

"If it goes anywhere," says Aya, with his natural pessimism.

"It's better than waiting here," said Yohji. He pocketed the disk, and closed the computer down with still-trembling fingers.

Aya didn't argue with that.

The backed into the tunnel, Yohji using his wire to pull the filing cabinet back in place behind them.

"That'll confuse them," he said, not without pride.

"Hurry," said Aya.

The tunnel ran straight for a hundred yards or so, then bent to the right, the overhead lighting replaced by candles set into alcoves in the walls. They could see an opening at the end, and beyond what appeared to be a room, shrouded in shadows. The soft hum of voices floated down the passageway.

Yohji and Aya exchanged a look, the faintest signal, and charged into the room.

It was a short skirmish; the cultists were too surprised to fight back much, and Yohji was more than ready for them. He netted the first two in his wire, tight enough to threaten a limb if they struggled, and was ready to help Aya, if he needed it. He didn't, of course; his katana flashed a neat arc through the air, dragging his opponent's eyes to the right as Aya's fist flew from the left, knocking him senseless with one, neat blow.

Yohji had to fight an urge to cheer.

The room was bare but for a font and a long rail where a row of robes hung. They had a choice of three exits, one in each wall. Aya didn't hesitate, heading immediately for the one to Yohji's right. Yohji followed him on trust through the door and into yet another passageway, this one narrower and damper, struggling with his own ragged sense of direction. He had just worked out that they must be clear of the church by now, when they came to a dead end, with a ladder set into the wall.

"Up," said Aya.

The ladder went up into a long, endless shaft of blackness.

"You first," said Yohji.

"Coward," said Aya, but he started to climb.

"Nah. This way I can watch your butt," said Yohji. _And catch you if you fall._

"It's dark, Kudoh."

"So? I have a good imagination."

After a blessedly short climb, Aya stopped. There was a clunk, and moonlight, and Yohji felt a few drops of rain on his face. He climbed out onto soggy grass, breathing in the scent of wet bark and earth, and drank in the sight of leaves and trees and dark, threatening clouds.

He kicked the cover back over the shaft, and replaced the camouflage of leaves and twigs. Aya was trying his phone: without success, by the looks of it. He shoved the useless device back into his pocket, one arm curling protectively over his injured chest.

It must have hurt like fuck, climbing that ladder.

"The road's that way," Aya said, nodding to his left. "We'll have to go through the forest. In case we were followed."

"It's a bit of a walk," said Yohji.

"Quit complaining. It's not like we have a choice."

"I was thinking of you," said Yohji. "If you pass out I'll have to carry you, and I'm prone to back injuries, you know."

"First I'd heard of it," snorted Aya, as they set off on the rough path.

"We could try and hitch when we get to the road," said Yohji.

"I don't think so," said Aya, firmly.

"You're no fun," complained Yohji. "If I catch a cold, it'll be all your fault, you know."

"Shut up, Kudoh."

Yohji ducked under his arm, and grinned at him. "Aw, Aya. You know you love me really."

They looked at each other for a long minute.

Then started the long walk home.

* * * * * * *

Yohji watched the dying storm from the cab of the mobile flower shop, bottle of sake in one hand, cigarette in the other.

He'd got the passenger side for once; Aya was still in the shower.

It would be dawn soon. Omi had retreated to bed as soon as he'd stitched up Aya, and Yohji found he couldn't be around Ken and his stuttered, futile apologies. Aya took it graciously enough, but Yohji couldn't forgive him so easily. Not so much because he'd screwed up the mission and put them all in danger; fuck, he'd done that himself, more than once. They all had, one way or another. But for hurting Aya... The memory of waking to find Aya in a pool of his own blood was too fresh for Yohji to even think about forgiving Ken for that.

He was disturbed from his thoughts when the door opened, letting in an icy blast and a shower of rain.

"Hey! Driver's side. I was here first."

"Move over, Kudoh. I'm injured." Aya climbed up into the cab with an ease that suggested that in fact his injury was recovering just fine.

Yohji grunted, and pulled Aya on top of him. "We'll have to share, then," he said, tugging the door shut as Aya settled in his lap. "My legs ache from all that walking you made me do. I need to stretch them out. And look-" he pulled up his sweater and pointed to a barely-there scratch across his abs, "-I'm injured too."

Aya gave him a particularly scathing look. Yohji offered him the sake.

Aya took the bottle eagerly, and swigged back a generous mouthful.

"You're getting good at drinking," Yohji said. "I'm proud of you."

Aya ignored him, and took another slug.

Aya was dressed in the sweatpants he slept in when it was particularly cold, and a thick sweater that Yohji was fairly certain had once belonged to him. He stretched a little, leaning back against the door, sliding one arm around the back of Yohji's seat, and passed the bottle back to him.

"This is getting to be a habit," said Yohji. "We should get a TV in here. Perhaps some curtains and a rug."

Aya smiled. "Like long distance truckers," he said.

"Really?" Yohji raised an eyebrow. "And when did you find out about the inside of a lorry driver's cab, Aya?"

Aya gave him a half-hearted glare.

Yohji ground out his cigarette in the ashtray, and took a long drink. The alcohol burned down his throat to his stomach, spreading warmth through his tired limbs.

"What are you going to do about Ken?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? He's out of control, Aya. If you hadn't-"

"He's going to see Manx. Ask for help."

"From Kritiker?" Yohji paused for a moment, letting that sink in. Kritiker weren't exactly the most touchy-feely, caring employers in the world. To go to them and confess-

"It's not the first time this has happened. If he goes of his own free will, Omi thinks they will help him."

"Omi trusts them too damn much," said Yohji. "It's a fuck of a risk, Aya."

"Yes. But really, what choice does he have? Like you said, he's out of control."

"But-"

Then Aya's lips were on his, silencing him. Spreading a warm glow through his body even quicker than the sake had. Bringing back vivid memories of the catacombs; the smell of stone and dust, and the feel of Aya's cock in his mouth, the sense of danger and all the excitement and fierce pleasure that went with it.

"Ken's not the only one taking risks," he said.

"No," Aya agreed, his tongue trailing over Yohji's lower lip before he caught it between his teeth and nipped gently.

Yohji made a little strangled noise, and slid his fingers into Aya's hair. The familiar fizz of excitement rushed up his spine, making life simple in the same way as drinking did: fading the rest of the world out into insignificance, until there was only Aya. Aya's mouth on his, rendering his lips numb; Aya's fingertips delicately stroking his throat; Aya's socked foot curling around his calf, teasing quivering muscles and tendons that only Aya knew _could_ be teased.

"Aya," he whispered. "I can't... not... I..."

He silenced himself this time, unable to resist the desire to press his lips to Aya's skin: his jaw and chin and throat and neck; pushing the oversized sweater to one side so he could kiss shoulder and collarbone. His hand worked its way under the soft wool to touch Aya's warm skin, the ridges and hollows of his spine, slippling under the elastic of his pants to settle on the swell of his ass.

There was no way he could stop himself from being with Aya, from touching him, holding him, kissing him. He remembered the few times they'd tried to end things: for the sake of the team or Aya-chan; for fear of Kritiker's disapproval; over his madness for Neu. It never worked. He could no more resist Aya than he could resist breathing, and the thought would have terrified him, if it hadn't been that Aya had always held something back, had some kind of resistance, some tether to sanity. Something that sometimes, when it got too close, or too dangerous, made him stop.

Yohji had thought that that something was part of Aya, unalterable, unquestionable, secure. He was beginning to realise he'd been wrong. Something had changed, and Aya didn't say no any more. Perhaps he felt happier, because Aya-chan was safe and awake. Perhaps the killing was getting to him as much as it was to Ken, and this was his way of dealing with it. Pushing the boundaries, tempting fate.

Perhaps he simply didn't want to say no. Perhaps he felt the same consuming, passionate attraction that Yohji did, so strong and overwhelming that he couldn't fight it.

Perhaps he _couldn't_ say no.

Aya's fingers were brushing small circles at the nape of his neck, his tongue was sliding around Yohji's, over and over, slick and wet, and his other hand was on Yohji's leg, kneading his thigh through his battered old jeans.

"Yohji."

Yohji opened his eyes to find out why Aya had stopped kissing him, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of him: hooded eyes dark with lust, hair all messy and falling in his eyes, cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen from kissing.

"What, love?"

"Remind me, after, I have to send a report to Manx."

Yohji blinked. Maybe there was some of the old, restrained Aya left, after all. "After what?" Aya's tongue came out to lick his lips, and Yohji caught it in his teeth, stole another kiss.

"After you fuck me," said Aya. He writhed a little in Yohji's lap, rubbing against the aching bulge in his jeans. "You are going to fuck me, aren't you?"

Yohji's heart pounded in his chest.

"Maybe," he said, summoning every last shred of self control he had left to tease with. "If you really, really want me to."

Aya glared at him. "Just fuck me, Kudoh."

"In my own good time," said Yohji, smoothing his hand over Aya's butt to tease the soft hairs at the very top. "Of course you'll need to go find some lube." His fingers delved into the crack of Aya's ass.

"Glove compartment," said Aya.

"Oh, really? Been planning this, have we?"

"Made sense," said Aya, arching his back as Yohji teased his hole with one fingertip.

"Pass it to me, then."

Aya twisted around to open the glove compartment, giving Yohji the perfect opportunity to pull down his pants, exposing his perfect butt. On a sudden impulse, Yohji pushed Aya gently forwards, so his forehead was pressing against the window, his chest resting on the dashboard, and Yohji could just lean over and swipe his tongue from balls to asshole, pausing there to wriggle and lick and push, Aya's hole all hot and tight inside, his thighs suddenly trembling, a gasp leaving steam on the windscreen.

A tube of lubricant was tossed back to him. Yohji continued to kiss and lick Aya's ass, and fuck him with his tongue, drowning in the scent and taste of him, while he fumbled with his own pants, slicked his cock, and finally had to drag his tongue away to slide two wetted fingers inside Aya's hole. He licked a damp line up Aya's spine and eased him back, slowly impaling him on his cock.

Aya moaned softly all the way down, all wet and open and ready for him, pausing only when Yohji was buried to the hilt inside of him. Then he smiled a gloriously smug smile, leaned back and murmured. "Full."

"Tight," said Yohji, reaching around to take Aya's cock in a loose fist. He stroked slowly, lazily, rocking his hips just the tiniest bit, clamping his mouth over Aya's shoulder and sucking to a bruise.

Aya started to move, hands gripping the dashboard for leverage. Yohji held off as long as he could, concentrating on the lazy pleasure of Aya's hard flesh under his touch, until his body wouldn't let him stay still any more. Then he gripped Aya's hip with one hand, his other moving faster over Aya's cock, and started to fuck. Letting his mind let go of everything but the exquisite, perfect pleasure of Aya's body. The heat and the slickness, the wanton rhythm of Aya's hips, rocking to meet every thrust, the warmth of Aya's mouth, sucking on Yohji's fingers, Aya's cock rubbing against his hand, hard and wet and oh, God, splattering sticky-wet in his palm, and Aya's ass was spasming painfully around his cock, and he could only sink helplessly, deeper and deeper inside of him, until his balls clenched up tight and he came hard, yelling loud and incoherently, aware only of Aya's body, of filling it, holding it, claiming it.

Aya slumped back, sprawling on top of him, panting. Covered in his own come, half-naked, his cock still hard, the last few dribbles flowing over Yohji's fingers.

He wanted to taste it, but he liked the feel of Aya's cock in his hand too much to let go.

Eventually, it occured to him that the world was lighter than it had been; the sky was purplish grey, and the sun was coming up.

"Aya," he whispered. "Tissues, love."

Aya moaned, reluctantly pulling himself up to reach into the glove compartment. His soft cock slipped from Yohji's fingers.

Aya's come tasted as good as ever, even if it was a little cooler than Yohji liked.

They cleaned up and dressed in sleepy silence, and Aya was about to crawl over to the driver's seat, but Yohji stopped him, tugging him back into his lap, nuzzling his neck. Aya wasn't a great after-sex cuddler, or at least he rarely initiated it, but Yohji hadn't failed to notice the way he relaxed, his face almost peaceful, when Yohji insisted and took him in his arms.

This time was no exception.

"It'll be light soon," Yohji murmured. "We'll have to move before then, or else we'll still be here at opening time. Don't let me fall asleep, okay?"

Aya was asleep already.

Maybe it wasn't about risk, after all, Yohji thought, absently running his fingers through Aya's hair, enjoying the look of contentment on his lover's sleeping face. Maybe, in this warped world they lived in, this was Aya's way of trusting him.

Either way, if they were going to survive, one of them had to start acting a little more responsible.

Yohji sat up a little straighter, lit a cigarette, and settled in to watch the dawn.


End file.
